Burgers and a Turnabout
by Dormant-Sylph
Summary: Phoenix and Maya go to a new restaurant, when they find that the owner has been murdered in the back room. With an employee falsly accused for the death, Phoenix decides to investigate into the matter, and prove their innocence.


_Monday, July 17th, 2018, 3:28 pm_

It was a hot afternoon in mid-July. The office's air-conditioning had busted the week before, and the air was humid and stale. I rose from my desk and opened the window, looking out at the Gatewater hotel across the street. It was just as warm outside as it was indoors, but I left the window open anyway to let the place air out. I strode past the slender palm lily (Charley) and made my way back to my chair behind my desk. It was just then that the door flung open.

"Hey, Nick! Guess what?!" A young woman, Maya Fey, a spirit medium, ran into the room and slammed her hands down onto my desk. I had first met her back in 2016, and we had become close friends over the past 2 years. She wore her usual acolyte uniform, and her silky black hair was pinned back in its everyday manner, leaving her choppy bangs hanging in her eyes.

I looked up from the disordered paperwork scattered across my desk. "What is it?"

"A new burger joint just opened downtown this morning, we need to go check it out." She was breathing heavily, as if she had just run a marathon.

"Why can't you go by yourself?"

"It's no fun eating out alone."

"Well then take Pearls with you; I have some work I need to finish here." I gestured to the various papers laid out on my workspace.

"You're such a spoilsport Nick, and besides, Pearly's busy today."

I worked away in silence-checking back and forth between the papers and a law book- for a minute or two before speaking again. "I should be done this by tomorrow, I'll take you then."

"No way! The whole point of a grand opening is to bring in the biggest crowd as possible. If we wait until tomorrow, the whole novelty of it will be worn off. We have to go today."

I sighed heavily as I stared at the papers on the table: They mocked me. There was no way I'd be able to go through them all by morning, _especially_ if I ended up taking Maya to that restaurant.

"So, wadda ya say?" Maya strolled over and watered Charley.

I mulled over the decision in my mind. Whether I took her or not, I still wouldn't be able finish all the paperwork for the next day. Though, the sooner I got it done, the better; and I wouldn't end up forgetting about it if I got another client. If: that was the key word. Not many people had been coming in recently; there was probably a low demand for defence attorneys. "Sure, I'll take you." I slipped a sheet of paper in the book to keep the page, and set my pen down.

"Alright, thanks a bunch!" She pumped her fists in the air and bounded out the door. Following her out, I locked the door behind us. As I turned the key in the door, I glanced up at the bronze name plaque where it proudly displayed my name and profession: Phoenix Wright/ Attorney at Law. It looked a little dusty, much like my income. I pocketed the office key and continued down the hall, exited the building and followed her down the street.

_3:46 pm_

The restaurant was right on main-street: One of the busiest sectors of the downtown area. If anyone wanted to open a store where the business would be good, this was the place to go. The sign above read in large red letters: Burger Haven, while a banner underneath said in blue: Grand Opening. Strangely enough though, there wasn't a soul in sight near the entrance. As we neared the door, I was expecting to see a 'closed' sign, or 'gone fishing', but the place was open. _Weird,_ I thought to myself, _I thought this was the grand opening, but why isn't anyone here?_

"Are you sure this is the place?" I turned to Maya.

"Yeah, they've been advertising it for a month now, haven't you seen any of the ads?"

"Actually, no, I haven't." I admitted that I hadn't really been watching any TV lately, or listening to the radio.

"Your loss," she shrugged her shoulders. "Anyways, let's go in already, I'm starving."

We entered through the doors and a savoury odour wafted through the air. It was the scent of browned ground-beef, of spices, of melted cheddar and fresh tomatoes. My mouth watered in spite of myself. The place was deserted save for the one cashier at the counter. Maya and I went up, placed our orders, paid, waited, got our meals and proceeded with them to a seat.

As I unwrapped my burger, I realized how hungry I actually was (I hadn't even bothered to eat breakfast that morning.) I held the piece of food in my hands and brought it to my mouth. As I bit through the bun, the taste of week-old lettuce filled my mouth. I immediately spit it out into a napkin. The meat was still pink, and it was cold. No other part of the burger had tasted half-ways decent, either. I looked up at Maya, she was eating the fries she had ordered, and was nowhere near starting her burger. Rising from my seat, I made my way up to the counter.

"Is the manager here?" I asked the young woman (a teenager really) who was on cash. She wore what I could only assume was her work uniform. No self-respecting woman would ever wear something like that in public, would they? It was a tight fitting two-piece, maybe cotton, with the primary colour of it as red. A centered blue V-neck collar traced the neckline of her shirt down to just below her breasts. Her shirt was pulled so tight I could make out the outline of her naval through it. The skirt was the same shade of red as her shirt, was well above mid-thigh, and pulled just as tightly.

"Pff, maybe, maybe not." She was filing her nails with an emery board. "I haven't actually seen him around here today." The name on her shirt read 'Karina'

"Well, if he was here, where would be?" I diverted my gaze from her revealing garments, but was soon convinced there was an invisible eye magnet glued to her chest.

She pulled out a bottle of magenta nail polish, "I dunno, probably loafing off in the staff room."

"And where's that?"

"Uh, at the back of the kitchen." She started pointing in the general direction, but stopped herself. "But it's for employees only, so you can't go back there"

"Listen, I would really like to have a word with him, so if you can just get him up here that would be great."

The girl rolled her eyes, and then shouted over her shoulder. "Hey! Would somebody in the kitchen go and fetch the boss? A customer here wants to talk with him, an' none of you guys are busy."

A chair slid across the floor, and the faint sound of flip-flopped feet could be heard going to the back of the kitchen. The door to the employee lounge squeaked loudly, despite the place being a new restaurant. A muffled woman's voice was all that could be heard from the distance between us, but it was suddenly cut short. No more than a moment later a scream rent through the air of that tiny establishment.

Another young lady (maybe 19 or so) raced to the front counter. Her cloudy violet eyes were dilated and she was as pale as a sheet. "M-mis...Mister...Mr. Cornwell...He...he's" She could barely speak, let alone stand. Her hands were clutching the counter in such a way that her knuckles had turned white.

"What is it, Marian?" The nail-polish girl put a hand on the others shoulder, probably trying to calm them down.

"D-dead...N-not...mo...moving...someone...someone must...must...must have...ki...killed him."

"Eh?! Wait, slow down. What if he just had a heart attack or a stroke or something?"

"N-no...he was...too...too young...for that."

"Did you see any blood?" I decided to speak up, try to help, maybe.

Marian paused for a moment, as if in thought. "No..." She started slowly, "I...I don't...think so."

_Poison, maybe,_ I thought to myself. "Call the police immediately, tell them exactly what happened." I went back to my seat and told Maya what had transpired. We cleaned off our table and waited by the door for the police to show up. I placed my weight on my right foot, and then switched over to the left when that became uncomfortable, although it became no more pleasant on the left foot than the right. It was just under 7 minutes when the police arrived.

They busted through the glass doors, their uniformed forms filling the room, their feet pounding the floor. Employees were filed out of the kitchen into the dining area. Each of them were questioned about the day, as well as details about the victim. They were very thorough, and a 'suspect' was uncovered in a matter of minutes. It was the nail-polish girl, supposedly. They said it was her shirt read 'Karina' but her name was Sophia Diaz.

As the police apprehended her, her eyes shrunk and I could see her face shining with sweat. Her eyes darted around the room and locked on my attorney's badge. She was still staring at it when she was dragged out of the building and put into the back of the police car.

I lingered around the scene for about three more minutes-asking officers and employees alike my own questions- when we were joined by another law enforcement agent, Detective Dick Gumshoe, another old acquaintance of mine. He was a large man, but not fat. He was maybe 6 feet tall, and broad, er, large-boned. His unruly brown hair was dirty and greasy as per usual, and an unkempt stubble traced his chin and jawline. Over top the suit he wore was his usual green trench coat, it looked a little cleaner than its usual griminess. Or maybe it was dirtier? It was hard to tell between what was a stain and what was actual dirt.

He strode to the counter and set up a seat by the entrance. _Was that what he had been called down here for?_ I asked myself, _Was he only sent here to watch that no one interfered with the crime scene? _I kind of pitied the guy: He was a homicide detective, but was almost always put on small jobs, and never really given the chance to prove himself. He looked around the room, glued his eyes to the outfits of the female employees for a moment, and then started rubber-necking again. I decided to approach him.

"Gumshoe," I started, choosing my words carefully. "May I, by any chance, examine the crime scene?"

He paused for a moment and stared at me, and then looked away. "Sorry, pal. Only those with a liable reason to are allowed near."

"B-but, I want to know what happened here!" I protested.

"Well, unless you get tied into this case somehow, you're not allowed past." He glanced down the kitchen to the staff room door. "If you want to find out what happened, either get connected to this case, or wait until tomorrow's news."

"Got it, thanks a lot."

"Huh? What for?"

"You gave me an idea, I'll be back later."

"Sure thing, later pal." He waved me off as Maya and I left the building and headed down the street.

Her and I made it to the intersection, but I made a turn opposite to how we had made it there.

"Wait Nick, where are we going?" Maya caught on that we weren't headed back to the Wright & Co. Law Offices.

"To the detention centre," I replied. "I have some questions for Ms. Sophia Diaz.

_4:38 pm_

The detention centre was bleak and quiet. I asked the receptionist for Diaz, and was told that she was still in questioning, but would be out soon. I took a seat on a nearby futon, and tried to relax a bit.

"So, what's the plan, Nick?" Maya sat down next to me.

"I'm not 100% sure," I started, "But I would like to at least talk to Sophia."

"You're going to try to defend her, aren't you?"

I smiled. "You know me too well, Maya."

It wasn't much more than half an hour before we were told that Sophia was ready for visitors. Maya and I were escorted to the visitor's room -a place we had both been to plenty of times before- and were told to wait. A large plexiglass window separated the room (One half for visitors and the other for 'convicts'.) The door on the other side opened and Sophia was patrolled in by a security guard. The guard stood by the door, silently observing what was going on between the suspect and me. Diaz was bewildered and dishevelled, I didn't blame her, she had been a free person only a few hours before.

"So you're Sophia, right?" I figured I should start the conversation.

"Y-yeah, that's right" She was much meeker than she had been back at the restaurant. "I...I guess I've been pulled into an awful mess."

"You could call it that."

"They've accused me of killing my boss." She was clearly distressed.

"Yes, but they've only accused you, they don't have any proof."

"If there's no proof, then why was I accused?" She was on the verge of tears.

I exhaled deeply and started to explain it to her. "Your name's Sophia, right?" Sophia Diaz?"

"Yeah."

"When the police arrested you, the name on your shirt read 'Karina'. They suspected that you didn't want to get caught on camera killing your boss, so you swapped the tag in case no one recognized you on tape."

"But I didn't kill him!"

"I believe you, but others aren't so sure."

She appeared that she was going to speak, but stopped herself.

"Again, I believe in your innocence, and I would like to prove it as well."

"You mean..."

I nodded. "Yes, I would like to defend you, if that's alright with you."

Her eyes teared up and she smiled. "Yes...thank you, very much."

"Alright then, I'll fax the paperwork to the precinct this evening"

Nodding, she wiped her tears on her arm. "It's Wright...right?"

"How did you-"

"I've heard about you before, on TV."

"Ah." I rose and stretched my limbs. "Your trial starts Wednesday, right?"

This time it was her turn to be surprised. "How...?"

I chuckled slightly. "Almost every trial now is pushed to two days after the incident; the day immediately after the incident is for investigation, while the second is for the trial. It's to get them over and done with as soon as possible. Also, there's a maximum of three days for a given case."

"Only three?!"

"Yeah, but most of them finish in one."

"Isn't that a little hasty?"

"Maybe, but that's the initial trial system for you. Several years ago, it was decided that lengthy court proceedings were no longer necessary." I shrugged, "So they swapped them out with the system they use now. Anyway, if I'm going to prove anything, I'm going to need to ask you some questions."

She nodded.

I chose my questions carefully before starting. "Can you describe this morning for me?"

"Hm, well I woke up late for work."

"How late?"

"Um, half an hour? I was supposed to be in at work for nine."

"You're pretty sure of your schedule, I thought today was the restaurant's grand opening."

"Today was Burger Haven's first day open. Samuel Cornwell, my boss, owns three different restaurants: Teacup and Saucer, Waffle Warehouse, and Burger Haven. Employees from his other two restaurants were hand-picked for Burger Haven, I was one of them."

"Um, about the food at Burger Haven... how did your boss get a restaurant license?"

"Well, his other two places are fine, but this is the first time we've stepped into the fast-food industry."

"I see...Tell me, did you notice anything off this morning?"

"Well, Mr. Cornwell was supposed to be in today, but he never showed."

I jotted this down in my notes. "So, if Mr. Cornwell wasn't there at all this morning, then who opened the restaurant?"

"Umm..." She seemed perplexed by this question. "I don't know," she finally answered.

I asked a few more questions before I was satisfied. As we were about to head out, Maya spoke up.

"Hey Sophia," she started, "Is there anything else we should know before we leave?"

"Yes, actually," she lowered her eyes slightly before finishing. "We don't have security cameras at Burger Haven."

_6:03 pm_

Back at the restaurant, things were much quieter than they had been when we had left. Most of the officers had left, and those who remained were either socializing or talking with the employees. Gumshoe was still faithfully sitting by the counter. I told him of what had happened, and he let me by, mentioning that the autopsy wouldn't be ready until the next day. Maya and I made our way through the kitchen (It was much cleaner than expected) and neared the door leading to the staff room.

"Hey Maya, are you alright?" I turned my attention to her.

"Y-yeah, it's just..." She seemed a little queasy.

"Just what?"

"Something doesn't seem right, like, I think I can sense something pretty bad."

"Are you sure it's not just the fries you ate? Everything seems normal to me."

"No Nick, I'm serious! I think something really bad is behind that door."

"I'll heed your warning," I said with maybe a bit too much sarcasm in my voice as I grabbed the door handle. It was coated with dried up grime of some kind or another. It had the same texture as a cell-phone that was handled by a kid with sticky fingers. The door was unlocked and it swung open relatively easy despite the groaning it gave off. As I stepped into the room to begin looking for vital evidence proving Sophia innocent, I suddenly wished I had never set foot in that restaurant.

The scent of blood hung heavy in the air. The room was putrid, as if something had died and then was left to rot for several days. I suddenly felt sick as I cautiously entered the room, focusing mainly on placing one foot in front of the other. There was a black leather couch facing away from the door, it looked to be brand-new. I stumbled to the couch, and steadied myself by placing a hand on the back of it. Timidly, I lifted my eyes to glance at the floor beyond the couch, and beheld what I had been fearing most to see.

A length of white rope traced the outline of where Mr. Cornwell's body had been. Large black spots of dried blood were everywhere, especially near where the victim had been removed, as well as coating the couch. Everything was out of place and in disarray: clear signs of a struggle. It didn't make sense, there was an obviously large amount of blood at the scene, yet somehow, a certain employee had completely overlooked it all.

Frustrated, I turned to leave and speak with that certain worker, when I caught something in the corner of my eye. It was a little glass bottle, filled with opaque magenta nail polish. I knelt down by it (careful not to touch it) to read the label. It read 'Polish Posh'; I was pretty sure it was the same kind that Sophia had applied to her nails earlier that day. The lid was slightly untwisted, and a small amount had leaked onto the floor, it had to have been there for a while though, as it was dried out, and cracking.

I quickly glanced around the room another time, looking for any other clues. There was a piece of red cloth stuffed under the couch. Crouching low, I tried to get a better look at it; I caught a glimpse of some blue as well.

Maya came into the room, "Hey Nick, you shouldn't be laying down on the dirty ol' floor." She knelt down beside me and peered under the couch. "What's that?"

"Oh, I don't know, just a bit of fabric."

"It kinda looks like an employee shirt," she reached under the couch and started to take the piece of cloth out.

"Maya!" I hissed, "This is a crime scene, you're not supposed to mess around with the evidence."

"The police have already been back here and finished photographing everything, it _should _be fine," she shrugged, "besides, it's not like they'll notice or anything." Quickly, she started unfolding the shirt. It was stiffened, and large blotches of a darker shade of red were over the front. The article gave off a strong metallic scent, with a hint of something rancid. It was covered in blood.

"Hey, look at this!" I took the shirt from her and pointed to left hand side. There on the front was white embroidered letters that spelled out 'Sophia'.

"That's got to be Sophia's shirt,"

"Yeah," I nodded, "Whoever the real killer is, they must have thought it through in advance. And pay attention to the bloodstains." I pointed them out as I went, "I'm not completely positive about this, but I'm pretty sure they were actually planted there _after_ the murder. The locations _are_ random, but at the same time, they seem a bit deliberate. There's no blood on the collar, but there is some hidden _underneath. _Also, the area around the name is completely clear of any blood, so the killer clearly wanted it to be seen."

"Huh, that's some pretty good thinkin', Nick. Do you have an idea on who the real killer might be?"

"Yeah, I have someone in mind," I responded as I hastily stuffed the shirt back under the couch. Getting up, I checked my watch: 6:21, it was getting a little late. The detention centre would be closing up, and the other employees had likely gone home. I figured the best thing to do was to head home and find out what kind of person Samuel Cornwell had been to find himself murdered.

Since it was going into the evening hours, I walked Maya back to her apartment;Crime was running loose and lurking everywhere, it really wasn't right for a young lady to walk home alone. We exchanged our farewells, and planned to meet up and work on the case the next day. I proceeded to my own place and started doing some research.


End file.
